There are many things I hate about my job, but my commute is not one of them. I do not hate the traffic, because it prolongs the time I can spend facing south on I-5, looking at the Seattle skyline between the hills and trees.
If there is rain--and there usually is--the greys are varied and textured and have a depth that has less to do with distance and more to do with intensity. And on the days when it is not raining, and I take the curve onto the 520 bridge, the sun makes mist rise off the waters of Union Bay, and glares off of Lake Washington. On those days, I can see Mount Rainier past the I-90 bridge, and my rubber-necking has resulted in more than one frantic slamming of the brakes. I do not even mind that it's getting darker and darker in the mornings, because it just means that I can see the way each side of Lake Washington--one choppy and one calm--looks in the light as the season changes.
It's funny that of all places, this is where I feel most at home since moving back to the West Coast. This commute, this drive south and then east, this place inside a car with New Hampshire plates (not for long!) moving through space on the Seattle freeways. I may be struggling to find a place in this city that I thought was already my home, but I haven't seen views like these in years.